


Alia

by BJackson



Series: The Other and the Observer [6]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BJackson/pseuds/BJackson
Summary: A chance encounter with Alia leaves Calavicci on a quest to redeem himself and not only save her, but Beckett as well.





	1. Chapter 1

          Two Sam Becketts stood in a clock tower in 1982, the icy November air catching their breaths as they recovered from their violent encounter. Their long, vengeful journey had culminated with this moment, the twin leapers grappling for control—Sam Beckett the angel, who wanted to save his Al Calavicci, and the Other Sam Beckett, who wanted both of them dead: the Al who had abandoned him and the Sam Beckett who had taken his place.

     And after all was said and done, he realized he could never be Sam Beckett. Not truly. His Al had pleaded with him to stop and the sobering words brought him a moment of clarity. He’d forgotten what he’d been fighting for. The Sam Beckett at 16? He was no longer inside him. He was nothing.

     “I can’t…change now.”

     His double took a step toward him. Even as his time was running out, he still was trying to save him. His facial wounds glistened in the kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off of the clock face. “Yes you can. It just starts with doing one good thing.”

     “No. That’s what Sam Beckett would do.” Beckett turned around. Raised his gun. “And Sam Beckett is dead.”

     If he couldn’t be Sam Beckett, no one could.

     “Sam, no!” Calavicci shouted. If he could have, he would’ve ripped straight through space and time to tear the gun from his hands.

     It was a warning that came too late. Sam was just a little faster and before Beckett could pull the trigger, suddenly a roundhouse sent him flying back. His body crashed hard into the stained glass, the shattering pounding his ears as painful shards tore through his clothes and into his skin. Just barely—and he didn’t know how he did it—his fingers gripped the edge of the clock tower. The glass pieces cut into his palm as his quaking muscles tried to hold him steady.

     “SAM!”

     This was madness. And for what? If the angel died he died Sam Beckett, but if the Other did? He would leave nothing behind, he was after all no one. He had to believe there was some other path, some way to change his ending before it was too late. And if the man before him found it, maybe he could too. If some microscopic chance of saving his soul existed, he had to desperately plead for it.

     “H-Help me…” His hands were slipping. Oh, god.

     But the angel Sam just stared at him. And did nothing.

     Beckett was aware of Calavicci screaming something, spitting out orders, but his voice faded into the background as he stared at his other half and came to a blood-freezing revelation: There never was an angel Sam.

     Sam took off, leaving Beckett to certain death. Calavicci was shouting again, nearly tearing apart the useless contraption in his hands. Beckett locked eyes with him, knowing that these were his last moments, and having nothing and everything to say.

     His grip failed. He plummeted down from the building, the winter cutting into him as he hurtled toward his death. His last thoughts were the two words he wished he had said: _I’m sorry._

The unimaginable feeling of impact, the crunching of metal—he only experienced the indescribable agony for a moment before he was gone. The final chapter of a life that shouldn’t have been.

     But then, impossibly, it wasn’t.

     There was no sudden moment of awareness, no quick jolt awake. Just a slow, sluggish trickle. A world of darkness that occasionally cracked open the door, giving him small pieces he couldn’t make sense of. A confused jumble of thoughts, sounds, and pictures. Muffled voices. Pain. Lots of pain. His entire body, broken and motionless. Trapping him. He wanted to move, to speak, but he couldn’t leave his black prison. He wanted to scream but that, too, had been taken from him. How long would he be stuck in this endless hell? Time strung together meaninglessly as he lay there frozen.

     He just wanted it to end.

     Then one day, while floating in the inky abyss, he felt a prick. A needle. A lifeline.

     The minuscule sensation grew and grew, stretching him, struggling to pull him to the surface. It would not be the first time he had accomplished an impossible escape—and this prison could not contain him. An invisible force fought against him and then—

     The world was a blur. Migraine-inducing lights danced across his sore eyes and shapeless figures moved across his vision making sounds he couldn’t interpret. The sudden burst of activity overwhelmed his senses and he closed his eyes again. Perhaps he should return to the darkness. Yes, he wanted that. He wanted that very much.

     One of his eyes opened again, but not of his own volition. Someone was holding the lid and shining a blinding light at him. He tried to turn away, only to find his body not responding. Why couldn’t he move?!

     More shapes moved frantically behind them. Beckett tried to speak, but a tube obstructed his mouth. He glanced blearily around him in search of answers. Where was he? What was happening to him? Who were these people? He was in and out of consciousness, his head swimming in search of answers.

     In one of his moments of lucidity, he felt someone take his hand and heard a voice that, at last, he recognized.

     “I’m here, Sam.”

\-------

     Lifted from the depths of despair, Calavicci found himself the happiest he’d ever been in this godforsaken place. Almost finding yourself dragged into a hell of a more literal sort will do that to a person. He wasn’t sure what to make of his strange encounter with—God? The Devil? Whoever it had been, it had a profound impact on him. Had stopped him from selling his soul. Had gotten him to admit the things he had been hiding—not only from the world, but himself. In sharp contrast to Beckett, he suddenly had a clearer understanding of who he was.

     He’d been miraculously blessed with a second chance, but most importantly—someone to have that second chance with. The most wonderful person he’d ever known had been resurrected from the dead, his only light returned to him. There had to be a reason for it. They had to have some hope. After all, wasn’t that what all that love crapola was about?

     The road to redemption came in steps. Because, well, he was still no angel and they were still subject to the Director’s whims. It wasn’t as if he suddenly woke up a new person, birds in the air and a song in his heart—he still had a lot of rage in him to overcome—but just wanting to be better was a beginning. That old Al was still in there somewhere, the Al who leaped under the watchful eye of his Observer Alia, who righted wrongs in time.

     He couldn’t just quit. But just because he was forced to do evil did not mean that he had to set out the welcome mat anymore. He was tired of being that person. He was going to find a way out of here, and Beckett was coming with him.

     God, he was back. Calavicci wasn’t sure he would ever believe in miracles, but this was pretty damn close. For crying out loud, the kid should’ve been a hamburger, how else could it be explained?

     Funny thing about comas. If someone is lucky enough to wake up, they don’t just open their eyes one day and suddenly go back to normal. It would take time for Beckett to relearn a lot of things. How to talk, how to get around again, even the simple stuff. It would be a grueling process to get him somewhere back around to where he was before—and even then he had a leg brace now—but Calavicci was just happy to have him again.

     Except.

     Well, Beckett was different after he woke up. Not that he expected him to be totally the same—brain damage can knock a few bolts loose, after all. But he was just…different. He was fragile, unkempt, quiet, far away. He barely spoke to him. His entire focus was on the work, which he did like an automaton before returning to his quarters. Not the farm boy with the heart of gold, nor the embittered survivor with a fire inside. He was just...a shell. It was like they barely knew each other now.

     Why did it feel like he hadn’t come back at all?

\-------

     Calavicci remembered the elation he felt the first time Beckett had spoken to him after waking up, how wonderful the sound of his voice had been. He’d been visiting as much as he could, to see if Beckett had fully come around yet, and talked to him to let him know he wasn’t alone. Even if he couldn’t understand all of it. He knew in some way he did.

     “They made me a leaper again, Sam.” He pressed his lips together in thought, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jumpsuit. “They, heh…I guess they felt I needed to get in the field again with you gone.” He grinned wickedly. “Joke’s on them though. They don’t know you like I do. I knew you’d be back.”

     A small sound, and Calavicci looked down. Occasionally Beckett would make some sort of noise, but this time, he was looking directly at him. Calavicci’s heart shot into his chest.

     Beckett’s chapped mouth opened and he croaked, “Back…?”

     He heard him. He heard him and he understood and he—he spoke to him! Calavicci wanted to jump for joy, but he knew there was always someone watching. He bit back his excitement and stepped nearer to his closest friend. “Yeah, Sam. Yeah. You’re back. You’re alive.”

     Beckett furrowed his brows and looked to the ceiling. He didn’t say anything else.

\-------

     That burst of excitement faded, enfolded Calavicci’s heart, bleached out into a sad confusion. The man he knew was a total stranger. He just wanted to hold him close, to breathe his scent, to tell him everything he’d locked up inside. But he’d been shut out.

     Beckett didn’t visit him anymore. There were no secret meetings, no comforting moments alone. And it made Calavicci…angry, actually. Didn’t he know what he was willing to do for him? How much he’d let his heart bleed at his bedside? He should be grateful! How dare he push him away?

     No, he had to put that anger aside. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. He just missed him. God, he missed him.

     He caught him one night as he was hobbling back to his quarters, still struggling with his new mobility. Trying to keep a friendly tone, he called out to him, “It’s a bitch, huh? Still better than a peg leg though.”

     Beckett slowed to a stop, peering back over his shoulder.

     Calavicci swung his hand in his direction. “I know how you feel, kid. It took me a long time to get walking right after so long in that tiger cage. It, uh, it makes you strong though.”

     Without responding, Beckett turned back around.

     Letting his frustration get the better of him, Calavicci sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Damn it, Sam! Would you just talk to me? Don’t act like you can’t.”

     He stopped again. He didn’t turn around.

     Anger mixed with a hint of desperation. Calavicci just wanted him back. “Come on. Don’t leave me again. Just say something. Anything.”

     Beckett slowly turned to face him, straining with his crutch and the pain moving caused him. Sweat had broken out over his twisted brow. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

     Calavicci was taken aback by the sincere demand. “What do you mean, why didn’t I let you die? Of course I didn’t let you die. What the hell kind of question is that?”

     A long pause. Beckett said nothing.

     Calavicci blinked. He couldn’t be serious. “You wanna live, don’t you, Sam?” A pause. The hollow silence frightened him. “Well? Don’t you?”

     Beckett swallowed and leaned heavily against his crutch. He did mean it. His spirit was completely gone.

     “Sam.”

     But he was done. He turned away again, disappearing into his quarters before their allotted time was up.

\-------

     When Beckett had recovered enough, Lothos decided he would be of better use as an Observer, given his new handicap. Beckett made no argument, did as he was told. Mostly small-time leaps—robberies, break ups, disappearances—things the Project felt they could handle. Easier, more boring—and with less reward. The smaller the leap, the less comfortable they were here. That was the trade-off. And so Calavicci continued as a leaper, with Beckett as his guide, his companion going through the motions as if ruining lives was a mundane occurrence.

     It wasn’t him. Calavicci knew there was still a fighter inside him, somewhere—someone bursting to get out. Someone stronger than this meek shell of a man.

     It was the fighter he’d fallen in love with.

\-------

     _As Calavicci placed down another winning hand, Beckett groaned and threw his remaining cards down. “Damn!”_

_“Read ‘em and weep,” Calavicci chuckled, collecting the cigarettes laid out between them on the floor of Beckett’s quarters. Once again, he was taking in the winnings tonight._

_Shaking his head but a good-natured loser, Beckett leaned back against the bed and draped his arm over his knee. “Why do I keep getting tricked into playing with you?”_

_“Because I’m the only mug worth lookin’ at around here.” With a cheeky grin, Calavicci lit up one of the cigarettes. Just to prove he was a humble winner, he lit up another for Beckett and handed it to him. “I ever tell ya how I learned to play like this?”_

_“No, tell me.”_

_“There was this girl in Reno,” Calavicci recalled, settling against the wall and blowing out a stream of smoke, “Darlene LaFey. And she was_ very _good at shuffling a deck…” He waggled his eyebrows._

_Beckett grinned through his cigarette. “Sounds like my kinda girl.”_

_At Beckett’s response, Calavicci chuckled in surprise. “Funny, you used to hate my stor—" He stopped himself, and they both went quiet. He’d done it again. Sheepishly, he ducked his head and said to the floor, “Damn memory.”_

_Beckett chewed on the end of his cigarette with thinly-concealed frustration._

_Calavicci hated it when he got his memories mixed up. He knew it gutted the kid. Made him hard. He loathed to be reminded of the shadow he was in, but least of all here where his other self was far away. His partner was the one person he could escape with—and at the same time, could never distance from what he hated most. Calavicci was kicking himself for killing what was otherwise a good mood. The kid was quiet, but he knew that he was holding back._

_“Lisa Parsons.”_

_“Huh?” Calavicci looked up._

_Beckett was studying his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. “My first real crush. In Elk Ridge. I was 15.” He looked up with an amused reminiscence. “I’ll never forget her. It took me a week to work up the courage to even talk to her.”_

_Calavicci wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this, but he was gonna play along and see where it went. “What’d you say?”_

_“Nothing. She talked to me first.”_

_“And...?”_

_“And I ran away. Didn’t stop for three blocks.” Beckett shrugged with a humorous grin. “I think if I’d met Darlene back then, I’d just about shit a brick.”_

_A pause. Calavicci snickered, then his snicker turned into a suppressed laugh. He didn’t want to be too loud and get caught. Beckett leaned back again with a shit-eating grin, cigarette glowing between his lips. The smoke encircled his long face, drifted along his jumpsuit that was buttoned down low and revealed his chest as it rumbled with laughter._

_He was a comfortable place._

_\-------_

The door to the Accelerator Chamber silently menaced in front of him, lit up red by the lights around it. He looked back at the Control Panel, where Zoey waited impatiently. His gaze shifted closer to Beckett standing near the door, most of his weight on his crutch as he plunked at the triangular handlink, lost in his work.

     “See you on the other side.” Calavicci gave a tight grin.

     Beckett’s eyes flicked up, slightly thrown off that he’d said something. They were usually silent during this part.

     “Ahem.” They turned to Zoey, who watched them under heavy lids. “Whenever you gentlemen are ready.” She gestured patronizingly toward the door.

     They faced each other again. More quietly, Al muttered, “Yeah, fucking with lives has a schedule, you know…”

     Beckett glared. Did he want them to get thrown into the Disciplinary Chamber? His lips thinning, his cocked his head toward the door. “Get in,” he ordered.

     “Only ‘cause you asked nicely.” Calavicci grinned at him, made sure to flash the look toward Zoey, and then pressed his palm on the scanner. The door slid open, and he disappeared with a wink.

     Beckett watched him go, puzzled by his flippant attitude.

     He’d been acting like that ever since he woke up, come to think of it. What the hell was there to joke about? He was getting tired of seeing his stupid smile. He tried to keep away from him, block him out—to the point where maybe they thought he was a little slow now. But the reality was, he just couldn’t bear the crushing wave of happiness. He only felt the burning of his flesh as he tried to touch it.

\-------

     The wave of bright scarlet slowly faded away, leaving Calavicci in pitch darkness. He hated this part. No matter how much they were briefed, the rotten holes in their memory always seemed to take away everything they needed to know. So as his eyes adjusted to the minimal light, he attempted to get a bearing on his surroundings until Beckett showed up to fill in the blanks.

     He was in a forest. Gee, this was gonna be fun. He couldn’t wait til he got some kid lost in the woods or something. Real valuable use of his time.

     Suddenly, a LOUD noise. He jumped and spun around just as a hulking, crazy figure with a hockey mask burst out of the trees with a chainsaw. Not exactly what he’d been expecting.

     “What the fuck?!”

     The man screamed and lunged at him. No way was he gonna go out getting sliced in half by this bargain-bin Jason wannabe! Hell, if this guy only knew the things _he’d_ done—it would send shivers up his spine. But, he probably wouldn’t have a clue Calavicci had any nads at all since he was currently running in the opposite direction. He knew when to bow out of a fight.

     Get somewhere safe, hide, and wait—he really, really hoped this wasn’t part of his assignment. Racking up this guy’s body count? Teaming up? He didn’t want to go anywhere near him. Maybe he’d be a copycat. Calavicci had never killed anyone with a chainsaw, now that he thought about it—yuck, too messy. A _machete_ , on the other hand…

     Before he could get too far, he smacked into someone else. A woman with long, blonde hair and a low-cut top stared back at him. She looked to have more cleavage than brains. “Chad, what’s wrong?”

     Popular woods, huh? With some annoyance at the unscheduled pit stop, he informed her, “Unless you wanna say goodbye to any vital body parts, I’d suggest you get moving, lady!”

     The girl frowned, glancing off to the right with some confusion. What was she, an idiot? Couldn’t she hear the chainsaw coming at them? There was no time to explain to her. He grabbed her by the arms, ready to drag her away.

     And then, there was a wave of electricity. It trembled through his body and hers, revealing their true faces underneath the cosmic facade. No, this was no normal woman. This was a leaper.

     One of theirs? Did they not trust him to get the job done? Maybe he’d screwed around just a little too much. He knew this was bad news, but he had no idea what he was really in for.

     Alia stared back at him with wide eyes.

     His hands dropped to his sides, dumbstruck. This was a face he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. Another timeline ago, in fact.

     “CUT!”

     Startled, Calavicci looked to the right to see a camera and a small film crew. So _that’s_ what Leatherface Voorhees had been all about.

     The director looked none too pleased. He sighed, rubbing his head with patience that had long since run out. “Okay, Kevin,” he said to Calavicci, “Take five, and look over your lines _one more time_ …” Kevin, from the sound of it, needed to look at his lines a lot.

     The hulking murderer shook his head and stomped away. In a high-pitched, nasally voice that seemed impossible to come out of someone that size, he muttered, “We’re _never_ gonna get the shoot done at this rate…”

     Calavicci’s attention could barely focus on anything but Alia, and her him. But with everyone else around, they couldn’t speak the many questions they had. Actually…the many questions she had, because Calavicci honestly had no idea what he would say to her. And Alia’s eyes held a guarded curiosity.

     As the rest of the crew began to take a short break, Alia gave a silent but cautious invitation to follow her further into the woods and out of earshot.

     Now that the initial shock was fading, Calavicci was filled with a nostalgic elation. It was _Alia_. This was someone he never thought he’d see again. He wasn’t much of a believer in anything, but obviously Whoever or Whatever was giving him a lot of second chances lately. And this was taking him back to the timeline he’d buried, the version of himself who was just now reemerging. To the woman who shaped him into the person he was and longed to be again.

     He missed her. He missed her guidance, her friendship. See, because while in _this_ timeline Sam had saved him, in _his_ timeline, it was Alia.

     She was a lot taller than he remembered, mostly because when he knew her she was in a wheelchair. She’d been paralyzed after her escape from the Project led to…Sam plunging a knife into her back. He didn’t know the entire story, just that she had tried to take him with her, and his fear had won out. The Project said to stop her, and he did as he was told.

     But Calavicci didn’t know any of that when he met her. She brought him onto her time travel experiment, a jobless drunk with no prospects, and showed him how to make something of himself. She showed kindness, forgiveness, trust, more than he deserved. Hell, he didn’t know what other nut job would trust a drunk to test out their time machine, but she did. She saw something in him that even he didn’t see, something of herself. And she might have gotten him lost in time, but he’d learned, truly learned, what was special about people. He saw in them what he’d seen in her. She was truly kindhearted and wise beyond her years. No one had believed in him like she did.

     In this timeline, she didn’t know him.

     Well, she did and she didn’t. He vaguely had a recollection that she knew his name, but not his face. He was just Al, Sam’s invisible helper from the future. A name but nothing more.

     And she currently had a switchblade pointed at him.

     He raised his hands with surprise. Talk about getting caught with his pants down.

     “Who are you?” she demanded. She was well-prepared to defend herself, and he had no doubt she was proficient with the weapon. One slice and he was road kill.

     “Relax, it’s me—It’s Al!” He scrunched up his face. Damn it, she wouldn’t know that. She wasn’t his Alia. Think, uh...

     But the space between her brows twitched with recognition. The blade lowered a few inches. “...Al.”

     Calavicci’s eyes lit up with hope. She remembered him! Maybe she had some leftover memories too! After all, in his timeline she was an Observer. He was her Al. She had to remember him after everything they’d gone through. How could he think she’d forgotten?

     “Sam’s Al?”

     His chest deflated a little. She thought he was the other guy. _Well of course she did, ya moron._

     He had to answer quickly, not give away who he truly was. “Yeah,” he said with a small grin, “Sam’s Al.” Not a total lie, in all fairness.

     The desire in Alia’s eyes was evident, but she raised the switchblade again warily. Hope did not make his claim fact. Atta girl. He was proud of her survival instincts. Never trust anyone at their word. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you weren’t sent by the other Project?”

     “Uhhh…” Shit, what did the other Al know that the Project wouldn’t? He pulled at his hazy memory for some of those leftovers he usually hated. He had to dig deep. “Let’s see, uh…” Alia’s expression hardened and she tightened her grip on the blade. “Okay okay okay! Calm down. Uh— Rumpelstiltskin.”

     “Huh?”

     “That was the password, right? When you were hypnotized in that women’s prison. Sam said the magic word and bingo!” He snapped his fingers. “You were back.” He couldn’t be remembering that correctly. Hypnotism in a women’s prison? It sounded like a bad movie he saw on Skinemax once.

     A tense pause. Calavicci just had to bank on that being accurate, because he didn’t think his other half was privy to that much exclusive information on Alia in the first place. But Alia’s face broke into a happy shock as she lowered the blade.

     “You really are him.”

     Calavicci sighed with relief. “I said so, didn’t I?”

     She let out an overwhelmed giggle, a sound which surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her like that. Long before the timeline changed, that was for sure. She was always very put together, careful of what she outwardly showed. And that meant she rarely cried, but he could see her eyes start to get misty now. Her hand covered her mouth as she smiled through her tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I only saw—Sam!” Her eyes widened with sudden excitement. “Where is he? Did he leap into someone else on set? I have to see him!” She was already starting to trudge back so she could search for him.

     “No, he—Uh, he’s not, um…he didn’t leap here.” Calavicci fumbled to explain, trying to keep his story consistent with what she would expect. Might as well go with as much of the truth as he could reveal. The best lies often were intertwined with reality. “He’s my Observer now.”

     Once this information sunk in, Alia’s face fell. Aw jeez, he hated to hurt her like that. No, that wasn’t it. It was…a bittersweet expression. A wave of relief. She sighed deeply and looked up, the moon reflecting in her glistening eyes. Like a prayer, she breathed, “He leaped home.”

     A pause. Calavicci grinned tightly through the pain of the reality. “Yeah. Yeah, he leaped home.” It was a lie he wished he could believe. He looked off into the distance uneasily. “That’s, uh…that’s why I’m here instead,” he finished lamely. He hoped she didn’t press further for the moment, since he didn’t have a full story cooked up.

     Alia was excited now. She eyed the space around him and began to walk around, as if hoping to see through time itself. “Where is he? Can he hear me?”

     “No—No, he’s not here right now,” Calavicci explained, and she tried to hide her disappointment, “But he should be soon.”

     “God…it’s been so long. I have so much to tell him.” It was evident she’d been looking forward to this moment since she last saw the other Sam, held onto the dream that someday they would cross paths in time once more. Her eyes met Calavicci’s again, and her expression filled with apologetic gratitude. “To tell you both, I mean. I never got a chance to say thank you.”

     Calavicci frowned. “For what?”

     There was an intensity in Alia’s eyes. She wanted to be sure he knew she meant every syllable. “For saving me. Both of you.”

     A stab of guilt gutted like the switchblade for the unearned credit. Much as he would’ve liked to be the person responsible for saving her, he was working for the very people who held her captive. But he had to play along now, because how could she ever understand who he really was?

     “Blair! Kevin!” A shrimpy production assistant made his way through the trees, huffing and puffing from just the short trek. He was not an outdoors person. “Jack...wants us…to start filming again.”

     “Oh, um—We’re coming,” Alia said, slightly off-guard, “Give us a minute.” She gave him a reassuring look and he nodded and disappeared. With some regret, she turned back to Calavicci. The last thing either of them wanted to do right now was film a shitty horror flick, but the leap must go on as they say. Well, someone must have said it at some point. “Meet me at my hotel room after the shoot. We’ll talk more then, okay?”

     “Okay.”

     With a toothy smile, she followed the PA back toward the shoot, but Calavicci had to hold back for a moment. He was still recovering from the shock. He had to admit, as thrilled as he was to see his old friend again, he suddenly found himself stuck.

     He couldn’t tell Alia the whole truth, obviously. But what _did_ he tell her? Eventually she’d find out he wasn’t here with the best intentions, whatever they were. Probably the exact thing she was here to stop, if he was honest with his guess. Somehow, he had to hide the Project from her while still completing his mission.

     Oh god. The Project. Alia was numero uno on Lothos’s hit list after what she’d pulled. They’d tried to blast her with a shotgun last time they saw her, only for her to leap off the radar never to be seen again…until now. He didn’t need any leftovers to remember this one—Zoey would bitterly discuss what she would do to Alia for betraying her, how she hoped her wounds were fatal. But he noticed the hurt in her voice as she said it—he didn’t truly believe she wanted her dead. Theirs was a long and complicated history. Zoey had truly cared about her and she might be the only person she could say that about. Which is probably why she hated her so much now. And hell could Calavicci relate.

     If they knew she was here, she was a dead woman. Which meant he couldn’t tell Beckett about her and oh, by the way, she was expecting to hear from Sam. A Sam who would be showing up pretty damn close to now. He didn’t even want to think about how Beckett would react to the news.

     Well, now what?

     The rainbow shimmer of the Imaging Chamber briefly lit up the forest as Beckett made his scheduled appearance. Calavicci kept his back to the door, still unsure of how to handle this. His Observer said nothing, but he felt his eyes on him. Finding no more time to waste without seeming suspicious, he turned around.

     Beckett was standing still, his stern expression glowing eerily in the light of the triangular handlink. “You keep making smart-ass remarks in the open like that, you’re gonna get us thrown into the Disciplinary Chamber.”

     Feigning being unconcerned, Calavicci gave a devil may care shrug. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood. _Somebody_ around there has to have a sense of humor.”

     “Just keep me out of it.” Considering that the end of that line of discussion, Beckett lifted the handlink and began to press in keys.

     Nodding and stuffing his hands into his pockets, Calavicci tried to stay casual. “Right to business as usual, I see.”

     Beckett frowned as the triangle made an unusual noise. He reentered the previous sequence.

     “Everything aces?”

     “Lothos is getting some unusual readings...” He kept his head low over the handlink, completely focused on the problem as he scratched absentmindedly at his stubble.

     Now Calavicci was sweating. They must be picking up on a second leaper. But if they didn’t know Alia was involved, they might not gather exactly what the readings meant. “Probably just some interference,” he suggested, “You know how that computer is, piece of shit doesn’t even work half the time. Er—don’t tell her I said that though.”

     Beckett nodded. That must be it.

     They needed to switch gears from this particular “computer error.” “So, uh,” Calavicci continued with his casual facade, “what does Lothos have in mind for me now? Car theft? Ignore a sign telling me to keep off the grass?” Maybe he was here to tank this movie; he might actually enjoy that.

     “You’re here because of a murder.”

     This sobered up Calavicci quick. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “Oh. I, uh, I didn’t know we were back up to murders yet.”

     His worried tone was not lost on Beckett. He could sense his trepidation. “You don’t have to do it yourself. You’re just here to cover it up.”

     Still, the mission didn’t seem any less ghoulish. But then again, that was their life. “Who?” Calavicci asked darkly. As if it mattered.

     Beckett consulted the handlink, scratching at his stubble. “An actress by the name of…Blair Bixby.”

     Alia. The breath caught in Calavicci’s chest and stayed there as he heard the dreadful words.

     “Tomorrow night, she’s killed by the director of her latest film...Jack McNeil. Lothos wants you to destroy the evidence he leaves behind.”

     Calavicci didn’t know what to say. What to do. Alia was going to die tomorrow night, and he was to be responsible for her murderer getting off scot free. No, worse than that. Now that he knew, he was going to be responsible for her death.

     “It’ll be quick.” His head snapped up at the reassuring tone of Beckett’s voice. Strange, but it almost sounded like sympathy. It was rare to get anything from Beckett these days, much less something so soft. Could he read the lines around his eyes that gave away that there was more to this assignment than he knew? The handlink blinked and shifted the colors illuminating his face.

     Calavicci couldn’t stew in it too long or he might as well put a big sign over his head reading SUSPICIOUS. He cleared his throat and pretended to chuckle. “Quick. Yeah. Like my sixth marriage.”

     He wasn’t sure, but Beckett might’ve actually humored him with a ghostly half-smile. It was gone as soon as he blinked, and his Observer was back to retrieving the information he would need to complete the abhorrent task.

     Yet again, he found himself stepping into a mountain of shit with no shovel.


	2. Chapter 2

     “Blair!”

     Alia was just gathering her things, eager to be done for the night. They were behind as usual, but fortunately the rising sun had made the decision for them. That was just as well, because she was too wired to focus on the leap at the moment. The sooner she got to the hotel, the sooner she could talk to Al and Sam. Oh, Sam!

     It was Jack who had called her. The director was in his 50s, pudgy, and balding—and he had an attitude to match his good looks. Having worked in the no-budget movie circuit for a long time, he was not a man of patience—he was looking to make this quick and cheap. That would explain the Shakespearean dialogue she’d been saddled with. It also made sense that the shrimpy—and only—production assistant was actually his son Ted, working for no pay and with a competence that reflected that.

     “I wanna talk to you a minute.”

     Alia hesitated, then set her bag down and approached him. He was checking out Blair’s…assets again. Alia wasn’t sure about her own acting ability, but Blair obviously wasn’t hired because of her theater experience. Which was fine since her character was swiftly killed off in the first ten minutes. But Alia was used to this kind of attention by now. She’d leaped in a couple days ago and had been sneakily rooting for her leap objective during the shoot. “Yeah, Jack?”

     “That was some _real_ smooth acting tonight, babe.” Jack’s gaze slide down her body unabashedly. “You’re really going places. Believe me, I’ve got an eye for this sort of thing.”

     “Well thanks.” Acting, right. Her dialogue tonight had consisted of two words and whole lot of screaming.

     “I was just thinking about my next picture…” Jack threw out casually, pretending to be thoughtful, “And there’s a leading role I think you’d be _perfect_ for.”

     Alia grinned. “Yeah?” Maybe she’d leaped in to help her career?

     “Sure. But, uh…” Again, Jack’s eyes wandered. He shifted closer with a lecherous look. “I gotta be sure how bad you want it. If you know what I mean.”

     That wiped the smile off of Alia’s face quick. Oh. It was _that_ kind of job. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. Men. So typical. “Gee, Jack, that’s quite an offer…but I think I’ll pass.”

     He was pissed. “Hey. I’m offering you a huge break. There’s hundreds of girls who would kill for that.”

     Alia gave a patronizing grin. “Then you’ll have plenty of them to call up.” She’d had more than enough experience slipping out of these sorts of situations. Jilted lovers, clingy boyfriends, general creeps. It wasn’t hard to turn him down. He’d take his ruffled ego, finish the picture, and forget about Blair Bixby as soon as the next girl came along. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she waved at him and kept up her cheerful demeanor. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”

     What she didn’t see was him furiously flipping over the craft service table after she left. He swore under his breath and glared at the empty space she’d left behind.

     The bitch was gonna pay for that.

     “Are you okay, Dad?” Ted came scrambling over nervously, notepad in hand, as if he might have the solution written down. Jack ignored him.  

     “Kevin!”

     Calavicci’s face lit up with surprise. He’d been lurking around the corner of a trailer, stealthily watching the events unfold. As Jack began to search for him, he inconspicuously walked out into the open as if responding to his call. “Yeah?”

     Jack had smoothed over his anger, now all weaselly smiles. His overbite made him look like a rat. “You know Blair pretty well, right?”

     “Uh…”

     “You said you worked on some indie flick with her a few months back. What was it called?”

     “October Leaves,” Calavicci made up with confidence.

     “Ah right.” Jack nodded as if this was very familiar. He placed one of his greasy hands on his shoulder. “Listen. I don’t know if you got any claim on her, but I’d really like to get her on the casting couch…ya know what I mean?” He laughed conspiratorially and nudged him with his elbow. Calavicci pretended to laugh with him. “If you could maybe…encourage her, there might be a raise for you. What do you say? Do me a solid?”

     Calavicci had to play his cards close to his chest, therefore he had to act buddy-buddy with this slimeball. He smirked. “Sounds like a tempting offer…” He pulled at his chin with his thumb and index finger as if in deep thought. “Tell you what, I’ll think about it.”

     Jack thought he had this in the bag. He slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, chief.”

     _Eat me, asshole. “_ Any time, pal.”

     Jack pointed his six-shooter fingers and winked. Ted stood there awkwardly between them.

\-------

     _That_ nozzle was gonna kill Alia? Puh. He hardly seemed capable of conquering a flight of stairs, much less taking a human life. No wonder he’d been so bad at it he’d been immediately caught. As far as Calavicci was concerned, Jack McNeil deserved it for sloppiness alone. Hell, he deserved to get arrested just for his terrible script. _Camp Killer 7_ wasn’t exactly Oscar material.

     Calavicci drove up to the hotel with his hands superglued to the wheel. This was a hell of a rock and a hard place.

     He only knew one thing for certain. Alia was _not_ going to die.

     She might not know him this time around, but he owed her too much to abandon her. She’d given him a chance when no one else would, and he’d thrown it away and become one of the monsters she’d fought against. He had to make that up to her somehow. He couldn’t stand idly by while some pathetic weasel snuffed her out because of his bruised ego.

     When he was a good person… _if_ he was ever a good person, the person who had shaped that was Alia. She started her time travel project to put right what once went wrong because she’d been on the side of wrong too many times. Once again Calavicci found himself destined to follow her path; he knew where she was because that’s where he currently found himself. She’d caused and endured too much suffering not to do anything. She was reminded of the place she’d been every day by the chair she lived in.

     The chair Beckett had put her in.

     Beckett didn’t talk about it much, even before he took a dive off a clock tower. Calavicci didn’t blame him, but he did blame himself for not digging further after what she’d done for him. He supposed he didn’t really want to know the details. If he asked about it, he’d have to confront the fact that the person he loved hurt someone he cared about very deeply. And by loving Beckett, was he betraying her?

     He wanted to save them both.

\-------

     It was much too early for this. After working through the night and driving back toward the hotel in the rising sun, he really could use some rest. But adrenaline fueled him. The numbers on the hotel door stretched out in full 3D the longer he stared at them, bracing himself. It was unusual for him to be so nervous on a leap, but as Alia’s presence sunk in further, so did the burning guilt that he was not the man she’d known.

     But then again, this wasn’t exactly the Alia he’d known.

     He raised his fist. Before he could knock, the door open and there she stood. Slightly embarrassed at her obvious overeagerness, she chuckled nervously. “Al. Hi.”

     “Hi.”

     They stood there awkwardly. Then, she quickly moved aside and widened the door. “Oh. Come in.”

     “Thanks.” Calavicci slunk his way inside. He felt a bit like a snake being let right into the rabbit hole.

     It wasn’t a Hilton, but not bad digs considering _Camp Killer 7’_ s budget. Alia had a single suitcase set out by the bed and the remnants of a few days’ worth of takeout. Judging by the placement by the too tiny garbage can under the desk, she’d made a hasty attempt at cleanup.

     The door shut and Alia whipped around with a big smile, too thrilled to hide her excitement. “Is he here now?”

     “Huh?” Calavicci craned his head back, then realized she meant Sam. “Oh. No, sorry. He was here, but, uh...he had to work out some bugs with Ziggy.”

     “Oh. That’s too bad.” She bit her lip, slowly slumping down into a chair by the desk.

     He hated seeing her like that. This wasn’t the mood he wanted to set for this conversation. “He says hi,” he lied. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “And that, um…that he’s glad you’re okay.”

     This perked her up. “Really?”

     “Really.”

     Her shoulders sagged with relief. “I wasn’t sure how he felt after…everything I did.”

     Calavicci frowned. “What’re you talking about?” He crossed over to her, sitting in the opposite chair. “He helped you, didn’t he? And you both saved those women.”

     “I don’t know.” Alia pretended to shrug it off. “I guess I was just worried that he thought it was a fluke.”

     Ironic, her worrying about Sam thinking any less of her. If she only knew what the Sam Beckett in her timeline had done. He didn’t deserve her adoration.

     She leaned on her hand and scratched at the desk. “I…I want you to know I didn’t forget what you both did for me. You didn’t have to help. Especially after I tried to kill Sam.” Her eyes flicked up. Her scratching stopped. “But from the moment I leaped out, I made a promise I was going to change. And now I help people too.”

     The Sam Beckett who had dropped his Sam off of a building was the same one who had set Alia free. And his Sam was the one who had left her to die. It was hard to reconcile those facts. But Alia had proven herself stronger than either of them by overcoming impossible odds. Still in this timeline, she was helping people. How long had she been leaping alone?

     Calavicci studied her determined gaze, searched for that magic something that motivated her to keep her promise. Maybe if he saw it, he could latch onto it and strengthen his own resolve. “How do you do it? I mean, do you have an Observer, or…?”

     She shook her head, trying to think of how best to describe it. “No. I just… _feel_ what I’m supposed to do. Like some higher power is guiding me. I think maybe you know what I mean.” She smirked knowingly.

     Calavicci snorted and averted his eyes. Yeah. A higher power.

     “But tell me about you, Al.” Alia leaned in, very interested. Her eyes squinted inquisitively. “I don’t know anything about you. And what are you doing here? Last time we met, you were a hologram.”

     He knew this was a different timeline, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear her say she didn’t know him, especially when he knew her so intimately. “I’m not so interesting to know.” He rubbed the side of his face, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “I mean, I’m just a guy. There’s not much to tell.”

     Alia laughed. “You’re sitting here in 1988 with me and you’re telling me you’re not interesting?”

     “Well, I guess I travel a lot.” He smiled under hooded eyes. He liked to make her laugh.

     “You didn’t answer my other question, Al. How did you end up leaping?”

     Because of her. A fateful call because some super computer had brought up his profile and thought he fit the bill. He’d gone from a washed up drunk to…well, a time-traveling drunk. And Alia had pulled his ass out of the fire more times than he could count. And now he played with dead bodies. 

     “It’s, uh…well, it’s a long story.” He scratched at his temple and leaned back. “I won’t go into the details, but long story short, Sam and I switched places. So now I’m the leaper.”

     “You took his place.” Alia had a look he hated, one of unearned admiration. Like he was some kind of hero or something. If he was really a hero, he wouldn’t have let Beckett fall. It wouldn’t have taken his friend’s near death or his own existential crisis to figure out that the only person who could change himself was him.

     “Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat, shifting the topic. “How long have you been here? On this leap, I mean.”

     “A few days. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I’m here to do…” Then, she got a twinkle in her eyes, a spark of inspiration. Her smile widened as she reached out and clasped his hand on the desk. “Hey. Since we’re both on this leap, maybe we can solve it together.”

    It felt like two invisible hands were desperately pulling at the edges of his mouth to accomplish his responsive smile. “Yeah, heh. That sounds great.”

     “Oh, Al! This is so exciting! I can’t believe you two are here.” Leaning onto her hand again, she curled her fingers over her mouth as she tried and failed to absorb everything. “You changed my life, you know. Both of you. I can never repay you for that. I can only try to be half the person as you or Sam.”

     There she was again, giving out undeserved credit.

     “Don’t say that.”

     Alia was taken aback by his sudden harsh insistence, his narrow stare. “But—”

     “Just…trust me. You don’t wanna be like me.” It seemed he was trying to play it as self-deprecation, but clearly there was something more there. He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask.

     He puzzled her. She cocked her head and tried to figure him out. “You’re different than I expected, Al.”

     A wisp of a smile. “You’re a little different than the last time I saw you, too.”

\-------

     Calavicci’s feet were burning a hole in the carpet of his own hotel room, the trail of smoke from his cigar following the shape of his pacing. He could tell Alia what he knew without giving anything away—after all, Project Quantum Leap had their own supercomputer with a huge chunk of history at their fingertips—but the problem was, he didn’t know much.

     In the original history Blair had taken the offer, but obviously she never ended up in that role that was gonna shoot her to superstardom. What happened and where, however, the Project had conveniently left him in the dark. He knew where her body was dumped, but not where she was originally killed. She’d been found submerged in a lake just a few miles from the movie shoot, where a convenient set of footprints matching Jack McNeil’s shoes slorped through the mud toward his eventual arrest.

     Maybe he didn’t even need to mention the murder. Just get her away from Jack. No Jack, no murder. But he would have to wait until closer to the time of death. If he changed things now, the Project would assume he was botching the job and send someone else in to do something much worse. Seeing as how she ended up a water-logged corpse originally, he hated to think what that was.

     He could stall for now, but Beckett would figure it out. He knew him better than anyone, could see when he was hiding something. The best thing to do would be to tell him before he found out on his own.

     Truth was, he _wanted_ to tell him. He didn’t want to keep lying, but he had no idea how he was going to take the news. He wasn’t sure about anything concerning Beckett anymore. He knew that he trusted him…yeah, he trusted him. But it was still a heavy burden to put on his shoulders. Knowing about his intentions to throw the leap and hide Alia made him an accomplice unless he turned him in. But Beckett would never do that.

     Right? Just like he’d never turn against Alia?

     The rainbow door opened and shut. Beckett, handsome sad sack, shuffled in with his usual enthusiasm. Calavicci wished he didn’t look so good when he was so miserable.

     “Another hotel room.” The distaste was evident in his voice. A lot of seedy things happened at hotels, therefore they spent a lot of leaps in one. Even in holographic form, he was sick of them. “At least it’s only one night.”

     “If only every leap could be this short.” Calavicci chewed on his cigar nervously.

     The handlink shrieked and the two of them recoiled instinctively. Beckett frowned at the glowing triangle. “That’s strange.”

     Oh no. Had Lothos figured it out already? “What’s strange?”

     “For some reason, the odds of Blair Bixby dying are shifting…Lothos says there’s now a 40% chance she’ll live, but the percentages keep changing.” He knit his brows. “You must have altered the leap somehow.”

     Calavicci felt a small tug of satisfaction. The odds were moving in Alia’s favor. Whether she knew it or not, she was on the right track to fix this wrong in time. She must be damn good at this. Hell, she had to be if she’d survived this long alone.

     And they just assumed he was the one accidentally changing things. He hid a grin.

     “You’ll have to make sure she takes the offer. Make friends with Jack McNeil and invite her along.”

     He froze, cigar forgotten at his side. “I, uh, I can’t do that, Sam.”

     Beckett seemed surprised. He lifted his head curiously. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

     “I mean, I…I can’t kill her.” He wished he sounded more firm in his beliefs. He straightened up and squared his shoulders. Yes, he meant it.

     At this, Beckett rolled his eyes and leaned tiredly onto his crutch. “Oh, are we pretending we haven’t killed people now?”

     “I’m being serious.”

     “You’re a true gentleman, Al.” Beckett pressed in some keys, opening up the Imaging Chamber. “Talk to Blair.”

     Beckett’s dismissal _really_ rubbed him the wrong way. Not just because of his defeatist attitude, but because of everything that had been building up since his recovery. “You close that fucking door right now!”

     The Observer was genuinely taken aback at this. Slowly, he reached up and keyed in the sequence to shut the door, slit eyes locked on Calavicci.

     Calavicci, emboldened now, closed in with wide steps. “I am so sick of you lately. This—This ‘woe is me’ act, it’s a bad look for you. This isn’t the Sam I know. You’re just bending over and letting the Project have their way with you!”

     Beckett looked very, very tired. Shrugging with defeat, he asked, “What’s the point of fighting, Al? What’s going to change?”

     “ _You_ changed, that’s what!” If Calavicci could, he’d grab him and shake him, bad leg be damned. He threw his cigar to the ground and stomped it out. “You used to give a damn. What happened to you? Because it sure as hell wasn’t just the swan dive.”

     This time, a fire was lit inside Beckett, one that hadn’t been seen in a long time. He craned his neck, face contorted with long-buried anger. “ _I’ve_ changed? What about you? I wake up and all of a sudden you think you’re Mother Teresa or something! But what’s been any different, Al? You’re still the same bottom-feeding waste of space you’ve always been, same as me! Only difference is, I’ve accepted what we are.”

     “I’m so damn tired of being the bad guy!” Calavicci spun around, pacing again. “And there’s always someone else to blame. The Project, our doubles, how we were raised—when really, we’re just a couple of fucks who hate ourselves!” He stopped, thinned his lips. Looked at Beckett pleadingly. “Don’t you want to do the right thing again, Sam?”

     For a long time, Beckett was quiet. He had a look of sad frustration—he _wanted_ to feel what Calavicci was saying, but he’d been hanging onto that dream for too long. He thought of his teenage self, staring at the blank wall of his quarters and dreaming of the hero who would rescue him and restore his faith in humanity. That rescue never came. “I’ve been fighting for 30 years and no matter what I try, I always end up in the same place.” He hobbled closer. “Nothing ever changes. We’re never getting out.”

     “Alia did.”

     Beckett stopped. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

     Calavicci’s face was set with determination. “She’s here. Now. Being a good guy. And that’s why I can’t kill her.”

     As if he’d just been socked in the gut, Beckett nearly reeled back at this revelation. Well good. At least he cared about _something_. “…no.”

     “Yes.”

     “Damn it, no!” Beckett’s mouth was tight with pain, the handlink squeezed so tightly his fingers turned white. He looked to the ceiling, scanning for his next action.

     Seeing the conflict in his friend, Calavicci got close to him urgently. “You can’t tell the Project, Sam. They’ll send someone else in and make _sure_ she’s dead.”

     “No no no no no…” Beckett was retreating in on himself, eyes searching wildly.

     “All I’m asking is that you keep your mouth shut. I’ll do the rest.”

     “What?!” Beckett turned back to him, eyes wide with incredulity. “You know what they’ll do to us if they find out we’re hiding her! And if we throw the leap they’ll figure out everything!”

     If Calavicci had any persuasive power on Beckett remaining, he had to use every last bit of it. He wasn’t hopeless yet. “I don’t know if you’re on your second, third, or fourth chance now, but if you’re looking for some sort of sign…this is it, Sam. You pass by this, and you’re gonna eventually run out of road.”

     Beckett was furious. “You can’t ask me to do this.”

     “Oh yeah? Let me put it this way: If you could go back to the you then, before you stabbed her…would you do it differently?” Calavicci stopped, gave Beckett a moment to really steep in it. The gears were turning in his terrified mind. “This is your moment to figure that out.”

     Beckett pursed his lips, opened up the Imaging Chamber. Calavicci waited for his answer. “Fuck you.”

     The door slammed shut.

\-------

     _“Oh Samuel.”_

_The singsong voice clenched his muscles like needles on a chalkboard, but nevertheless Beckett nonchalantly pulled himself out of the panel he was fixing. Zoey was leaned against the wall, casually swinging the braid hanging from her belt like she didn’t have a care in the world._

_He wiped the sweat from his brow and held up a screwdriver. “I’ve got work to do, so unless you’re here to tell me what a stellar job I’m doing, go find someone else to bother.”_

_Eyes wide, Zoey feigned worry. “Oh no, I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”_

_He wasn’t sure what she was up to, but he didn’t like playing games. Beckett buried himself back inside the wall._

_“…especially not if you want to visit the Captain again tonight.”_

_His blood suddenly ran cold. She knew. Slowly, Beckett pulled himself out again._

_Zoey shrugged and grinned. She had him exactly where she wanted him. “Did you think I didn’t know about your little nighttime rendezvous?” She pointed both hands to the ceiling. “Lothos has eyes everywhere, and she’s not pleased.”_

_Beckett’s nervousness was betrayed by a thick swallow. “Now what? Are you going to tell the Director?”_

_Taking a moment to consider the question, Zoey circled around to the other side. “You and Albert have been spending an awful lot of time together…one could get suspicious. Perhaps we should put you with another Observer for a while…”_

_“No,” he protested a little too quickly. He attempted to bury his fear. With razors on his tongue, swallowed his pride. “Please.”_

_Don’t take him away._

_“You sound desperate, Samuel,” his former Observer commented, perpetually amused at his squirming. Her eyes flicked quickly up his body. “Tell me, are you two fucking?”_

_Anger turned him red. He got to his feet, screwdriver clenched in his hand. “Is that your opinion, or is that some fantasy scenario Lothos dreamed up?”_

_“If you don’t want him, I’m sure I could take him for a ride.”_

_That was the biggest bitch about Zoey, her constant smug half-jokes. Well he wasn’t laughing. “Look, just answer my damn question. Are you going to tell the Director or not?”_

_A pause. Zoey lifted an eyebrow. “I think I’ll keep this one under my hat for now.” Knowing she had something to hold over him, she began to slink away. He was sure she’d cook up something nasty for him later. Sometimes she liked to do things herself before bothering management._

_But he still heaved a sigh of relief._

_“Oh, and Samuel.” He looked up. Zoey’s mouth quirked. “I see the way you look at him.”_

_What the hell was she on about?_

_\-------_

     “Samuel.”

     Beckett opened his eyes, slid his gaze to the glowing crimson control panel. Zoey was watching him at the door with hooded eyes.

     “Drifting off again, are we?” She gave nothing away, but her eyes pierced through him. She always seemed to know more than she should. “We could have the doctor take a look at you.”

     Beckett shuddered at the thought of seeing the Project doctor again, of being poked and prodded and injected. He’d rather suffer than be “examined” by him. “I’m fine.” He made his way over to the panel, placing the handlink on the charger.

     “Wonderful to hear. It would be a shame to lose you, Samuel, not when the Director just got back one of his favorites.” Zoey seemed to find this all very amusing. She stroked her finger across a red cube absentmindedly.

     The Director. Beckett would go back to the doctor for months before he even considered going to the Director.

     “And what about our dear Albert? He’s playing along, isn’t he?”

     Briefly, for just microseconds, he thought of just coming out with it. But as soon as Alia’s name nearly touched his tongue, his stomach clenched and he became sick. He didn’t want to be tortured, hated that he was put in such a position—but guilt held him back. He had to buy time for now. Figure out what he wanted to do.

     “Yes. He’s…he’s going to talk to Blair, get things back on track,” Beckett informed her, careful of how he came off, “He accidentally changed history, but it’ll be fixed.”

     This was foolish and dangerous. They would find out about Alia eventually. How long would it be plausible that he didn’t know?

     A subtle grin caught on Zoey’s lips. “That’s my boy.”

     The nausea grew as he looked across the panel into the proud, glowing face of who was essentially his second mother. She’d taken him in at sixteen, taught him what he needed to know, rewarded him if he’d done well and disciplined him if he’d done poorly. But he’d never felt any sort of connection with her, not like Alia.

     Alia was her favorite. She took care of her, even protected her at times. One could even have called it love. As she grew older Alia began to feel an affection for her, a bond uniquely shared by their time as leaper and Observer. Once Alia actually saved her life. Zoey didn’t forget that. When Alia was gone, Beckett felt Zoey’s resentment toward him. She was an Observer, so she remembered it all. He was Sam Beckett, who corrupted her precious Alia and set her free. But mostly, Zoey was resentful simply because he wasn’t her.

     He wondered what she would think if she knew Alia was in 1988 now.

     It hardly seemed real to him. He had to see for himself.

\-------

     A few rooms down the row from Calavicci’s room, an invisible, shimmering doorway to the future opened. Slowly, the fear causing him to tremble, Beckett entered into Blair Bixby’s room.

     Alia’s room.

     It was empty. He still had time to leave. Quickly he began to fumble with the handlink, but then the bathroom door opened and there she was.

     Her hair was shorter than he remembered. She brushed it behind her ear as she padded barefoot across the room, dressed in a white tank top and boxers. He hovered by the door as she sat on the bed Indian style, picking up a brush. Though she had no way of knowing he was there, a crippling fear stuck in his throat, repelled him away from her. He didn’t deserve to be in her presence.

     She was the only reason he survived. They were two frightened teens, trapped in an uncaring world full of horrors they hadn’t even imagined. And yet they lived, day after day, and only with each other to relieve the madness. He even found with her, he could be happy. She found the same comfort in him, another lost soul who understood.

     She was his first, though it wasn’t romantic. There was a simple trust there, a confidence and warmth. They told each other secrets, desires, what they would do when they eventually got out. She told him about her first love, and how she never knew. He told her about his family, his dreams. How he loved music and science and the smell of the farm. They held each other close on many cold nights. When they got out, they would never forget each other.

     Alia found a way out, and bone-chilling fear overtook him. They would be punished. They would be punished again and again and again. He couldn’t face that. He couldn’t go into the red room and shed more blood. No more.

     Zoey told him to stop her. How dare Alia leave her behind, after everything they’d been through? She handed him the knife. He embedded it in her spine, twisted it in. The look in Alia’s eyes would haunt him forever. _Why, Sam? Why?_

That was the moment everything had changed for him. When he stopped being the kid who dreamed of freedom and became the man who enacted horrible things and sometimes even liked it. He’d tried to kill his best friend, his last remaining innocence.

     And now she was sitting here before him, as if none of it ever happened. She only knew the Doctor Beckett, who hadn’t betrayed her. He’d set her free. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. Didn’t mean he was forgiven, because she never could now. His shame was not erased because time had changed. He did those things. He stuck the blade in.

     He dared to step closer, mouth twisted with pain. For fuck’s sake, why did she have to come back into his life?! She was safe without him! Whatever higher power—if there was indeed a higher power that existed—was leaping her through time, it kept bringing her to him.

     And he was going to destroy her.

\-------

     “Why didn’t we listen to her?”

     Calavicci sat up in bed. He hadn’t heard Beckett pop in.

     The hologram was studying the wall. “It’s strange. How Alia was somehow the best part of both of us, and we still ended up here.”

     Calavicci swung his feet over the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. Even in the light of the neon sign striping in from outside, he could see the regret etched into Beckett’s pale features. It was so easy to blame their time traveling counterparts for the paths they led, for toying with history, for leaving them behind. But Alia, at least from their perspectives, came first. And she stood as a stark reminder of their own failings.

     Calavicci exhaled deeply, pulling his hand down his face. “She was a bit older when I knew her, and a lot harder. Maybe that’s why she put up with me for so long: she gave as good as she got.”

     That wall must’ve been pretty damn fascinating.

     “She didn’t talk about you, but, uh…she talked about you.”

     This stirred something in Beckett. He saw Calavicci’s eyes shine black in the dark.

     “She didn’t like to go into details about a lot, but every once in a while she’d get this look,” his lip curled up slightly, “and she’d tell me about this friend she had, this real stubborn son of a bitch. And whatever it is she was runnin’ from, he didn’t make it out. And that always drove her to make _sure_ I didn’t make the same mistake. It wasn’t until I got all these memories mixed up that I realized it was you.” A glimmer of teeth. “So in a way…you’re the reason I turned out like I did. At least for a while.”

     “And look at what I turned you into,” Beckett breathed bitterly.

     “You made me a better man, you bastard.”

     Beckett looked up sharply. Calavicci leaned into the light, black eyes now a warm brown and a deadly smile barely visible. To Beckett he looked like the devil. The dark called to him, and Beckett resisted its painful pull.

     The smile vanished and Calavicci became more serious. “You’re right though. We waited too long to figure out what she did a long time ago.” He heaved himself up, approached his friend. “But we gotta start somewhere. She got out. So can we.”

     He could see Beckett’s resolve breaking behind his troubled eyes. He was scratching the surface to the old Beckett.

     “Sam.” He swallowed. This was difficult for him. “I don’t want us to die like this.”

     Beckett faced him, his brows as heavy as the weight on his shoulders. “That’s what’s going to happen if I help you.”

      Calavicci thought on it, his face lit up eerily by the sparse light streaming through the curtains, “Well…at least we’ll be dying for something that means something.”

     Beckett yelled in frustration, pivoting on his crutch as the old excuses swept back in. “Oh you make it sound so easy! But I didn’t sign up for this, you did!”

     Calavicci growled. “Don’t act like I don’t care about what happens to you!”

     “Oh give me a break…” Beckett sighed impatiently.

     “I mean it! When you nearly died, a part of me died too.” Calavicci caught his breath, frightened he might have given away too much. But the intensity was unbearable. If he was going to do this--and he was--he couldn’t risk the chance of not being able to tell Beckett what he meant to him a second time. “The thought of losing you terrifies me, Sam.”

     A pause. Beckett glared at him from over his shoulder. “You just don’t want to be alone.”

     He didn’t get it.

     How could he think that after so long? Did he find him so shallow, that he thought he was simply a warm body to keep him company? Maybe before, but not now. Not now. He was worth more—and so was Calavicci. He twisted his face, clenched his teeth, and balled his fists furiously. “Damn it, Sam! I love you!”

     Silence. Calavicci stood in horror, staring at Beckett’s back. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. It had just come out.

     He blinked. Licked his lips. Breathed in shock and finally admitted, “I’m…in love with you, Sam.”

     His throat began to dry up, close off. His well-kept secret was out in the open, ripped beating out of his chest. It was his biggest gamble this leap, bigger than Alia, bigger than the Project—Beckett meant more to him than any of it. God, he wished he could take it back, could jump into the Accelerator and shut his big mouth. But now that it was out, now that he knew—he had to know what he would say. God, he was so dumb!

     The wait was interminable. He wished he could get it over with. Tell him he didn’t like guys or something, finally end his torment. But deep in his cavernous heart Calavicci felt there was something there, maybe buried even more deeply than it was in himself. He was terrified to find out the answer.

     When Beckett turned around, he looked as if he had been slapped across the face, a traitorous, wounding act. His eyes narrowed and he took a few deep breaths, really staring into the soul of the time-separated man across from him.

     _I can get you out. I can get you out._  

     Beckett saw the knife plunging into his back. The inevitable end of everything that ever meant anything to him.

     His answer was a brief, vicious staccato. “I can’t love anything.”

    The light disappeared and Calavicci was left alone, a fist clenched around his broken heart. He couldn’t breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

     The sound of the door clunking shut was like a thousand pound weight being dropped to the floor. With as much calm as he could muster, Beckett once again replaced the handlink and made his way back into his quarters. As soon as he was inside, his crutch clattered to the ground, he pressed himself into the wall, and his body slowly slid to the ground.

     This was too much. Everything was too much. He could hardly imagine himself opening the Imaging Chamber again and seeing the people contained within. They touched something inside him he couldn’t bring to the surface, not again. Every time he reemerged, he was rewarded with his greatest suffering.

     If he got too close, he would lose everything. He’d fallen for these promises before. Calavicci was not his first offer of escape.

     _I can get you out._ A ray of hope, then an endless abyss. And the man who extended that hand looked exactly like the one he survived with now.

     _Damn it, Sam! I love you!_

Loved him. **_Loved him?_** Impossible. Unthinkable. How _dare_ he? Simply saying the words put a target on his head. Why did he have to open his fucking mouth? Beckett demolished everything he cared about, and by saving him Calavicci had signed his death warrant. If he was allowed to feel, he would hate him because he was turning into Him.

     He was never meant to wake up.

\-------

     Late night shoots made for shit sleep schedules, and so it was the middle of the afternoon when a baggy-eyed Alia came rapping on her leaping companion’s door with a couple hotel coffees in hand. She’d not slept that well to begin with, but the same adrenaline that kept her awake was what drove her to his room with a spring in her step. And maybe the vain hope that this time, Sam would be there. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

     Al was…intriguing. It was against her nature to trust someone who was essentially a stranger to her, but he had been a silent savior. Like an angel on Sam’s shoulder. She still didn’t know him that well, even though he’d been so important to her life. And truth be told, he didn’t know her that well either. But…somehow, it felt that he did. Something in his eyes read deeper than he could possibly know.

     Maybe it just came with the territory when you right wrongs in time. She was new at this after all.

     A sense of closure came with finally putting a face to him, but he wasn’t at all what she’d pictured. Al Calavicci: a strong Italian name—the man in her mind was olive-skinned and broad-shouldered, with a young face full of confidence. Everything Sam reacted to spoke of bravado and purpose, of a strong-willed guide. The reality was a smoke-weathered man in his 60s, with a slightly sloped back and evasive eyes. And scars that told a different story than what she had imagined.

     His closed demeanor still gave away some doubt. In her? She was, after all, the woman who tried to murder his partner. Sam was the one who believed in her, but Al? She wasn’t sure. She would have to prove herself to him, just like she had proven to herself that she could be better.

     Who was he?

     Weird he was taking so long. She knocked again. Could be he was in the bathroom and didn’t hear her. After another wait, the door slowly opened and her lips parted with worry.

     He looked worse than she did. The dark circles brightened his bloodshot eyes, still slightly glazed from the undeniable effects of alcohol that hadn’t quite worn off yet.

     “Al. You look terrible.”

     “No shit? ‘Cause I feel great.”

     The row of empty bottles behind him was a familiar sight to Alia. Even after escaping that wretched place, there had been an adjustment period. It dawned on her that the enigmatic feeling he projected was perhaps a cover because he, too, wasn’t handling leaping as well as he outwardly appeared.

     She pushed her way past him. “You want to tell me what happened?”

     “Make yourself at home,” Calavicci said sarcastically. Alia put a hand on her hip, waiting for an answer. He heaved an annoyed sigh, giving in and shoving the door shut lazily. “It’s nothing. It’s personal. I don’t wanna talk about it so we aren’t going to. Got it?”

     Alia knew when not to pry, especially when they really weren’t that close. Even so, she wanted to be able to help repay her debt in some small way. Pausing for a moment and realization her curiosity wouldn’t be sated, she reluctantly nodded. “Got it.” She extended a coffee cup toward him.

     After staring at it a few moments, Calavicci slowly took the drink. Slumping into the chair by the desk, he took a sip and pulled a face. “Ugh, what’d they make this stuff out of, tar?”

     “What’d you expect?” Alia replied with a shrug, “It was complimentary.”

     “I think I’d rather take the hangover.” With that, Calavicci plunked the cup heavily down onto the desk again.

     “You’re welcome.”

     The man across from her raised a tired eyebrow. “Don’t you have a fuckin’ leap to solve or somethin’?”

     Alia paused a moment at the sharp tone. She wasn’t easily ruffled by vicious words, but she definitely wasn’t expecting that from him. Whatever had happened, it was bad. It was time to try a different tack. She folded her hands in front of her and bobbed her head. “I might have an idea, if you’re sober enough to hear it.”

     He leaned on his hand, deadpan. “I’m dying to know.”

     “Then get changed; we’re going out.” Alia headed for the door perkily. Stopping in the doorway, she twisted around to find a confused expression. “I’ll tell you over groceries.”

\------

     “I’m so sick of takeout.” Alia grabbed a box of cereal off the corner store shelf, placing it in her basket with relief. “I’ll take Lucky Charms any day.” She chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I just eat the marshmallows.” She continued chatting casually, but the words were in and out of the ears of the hung-over man beside her.

     The whistling tune of _Don’t Worry, Be Happy_ seemed to be mocking Calavicci over the crummy store speakers. He shot a distasteful look up. Real nice. What the hell was there to be happy about?

     He wanted to tell her everything, consequences be damned, but it wasn’t just his life at risk. It had been on his mind for some time now that Beckett was becoming increasingly less useful to the Project in this zombie state, which meant they might just call it a loss and get rid of the headache. But maybe the chance was worth it, because he was starting to realize that saving him might be a lost cause.

     Beckett didn’t love him. He couldn’t even stand him because all he saw was the Admiral. Hell, he couldn’t even stand himself because he saw the Doctor. He didn’t want to be saved.  And Calavicci had been so blinded by his feelings, so sure that he would turn around, that he hadn’t even imagined the possibility that Beckett might not be part of the equation when he made it out.

     He was too frightened to consider the possibility that he might not be saved either.

     “I got a call this morning from Blair’s sister.”

     “Huh?”

     “Blair’s sister.”

     “Blair?” It took him a moment. “Oh, Blair! Right, you’re Blair.”

     “She said she missed me, that Blair’s been gone a long time.” Alia got a thoughtful look as she played with the basket for a moment. “I think maybe I’m here to get her home. Fitting, don’t you think?”

     Home. Beckett and Alia wanted to go home, but he didn’t even have that. What was home to him anyway? “Yeah…Yeah, that makes sense,” he mumbled.

     “So I’ll go once the shoot it over.”

     Calavicci blinked, knocked back to reality. Wait a minute, there was his out. “Why wait? You’ll leap that much faster,” he hinted.

     “And leave you behind?” Alia waved him off. “No way. We still have to figure out what you leaped here for.”

     “Me?” Calavicci’s mouth twisted up, his frustration becoming more apparent. Was she determined to die? “Who gives a shit about me? Alia, you can get outta here!”

     Alia frowned, absolutely baffled by his sudden downturn today. Reaching out a delicate hand, she touched his shoulder and ice prickled his skin. “Al…are you okay?”

     He jerked away. He hadn’t earned any sympathy. She wouldn’t look at him that way if she knew the things he’d done.

     The things she’d done.

     “Is it worth it, Alia?” He narrowed his eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets. “After everything…” He swallowed. He couldn’t tell her. “Do you think it’ll matter in the end?”

     Alia’s hand slipped away. He still saw the old Alia, the awful person she was. But maybe…there was some of that in him. An old weight was weighing down his tired shoulders.

     She stared at the wall, her mind in the distance. “I thought about that a lot…after I started leaping on my own. About what it meant, the terrible things I was responsible for.” She sucked on her lips, turned up her eyebrows. “One of the first leaps after I was free, there was a drunk driver who killed a young boy. At his trial, he was going to be killed by that boy’s father.” She took a deep breath. “And I wondered why the hell I would ever be leaped in to help scum like that. He deserved to die.”

     Calavicci scoffed. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

      “I saved him.” The met eyes. Alia had a Mona Lisa smile. “And on the next leap, I met someone whose life was saved by joining his outreach program for troubled youths. He’d started it after serving his time, and he helped a lot of people.” A pause. She was reminiscent, proud. “It matters, Al.”

     Whatever question was burning in her leaping companion’s mind had been answered.

     Suddenly, Calavicci’s hands shot out and grabbed her. Urgently, he begged, “Alia, you’ve gotta just hit the road now. Don’t even pack. Just get in your car and start driving.”

     “What?”

     There was an air of desperation to him, making his eyes a little mad. This had to work. If he was going to rescue her, he had to act now. No more waiting on Beckett to come around; he had to choose his own destiny. “I mean it. Just—just get Blair home, and I’ll take care of my end of the leap. Don’t worry about me.”

     She was really worried now. “Al, please tell me what’s going on.”

     “It’s nothing. Ziggy says you’re right; that’s what you’re supposed to do. But you have to go now, so get outta here!”

     Alia believed his urgency, but she was torn. If she helped Blair, she couldn’t be sure how his leap ended. But then again, he did have a parallel hybrid computer on his side. If she said Blair had to go now, she was probably right. Calavicci was already shoving her toward the door. “But—”

     “Go!”

     She stopped, scrutinized him closely. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

     Calavicci’s eyes turned sad with a secret he couldn’t share. “I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t. All I can say is, you need to go and forget about me. Please.”

     A long moment passed as Alia tried to read him, longed for the answer that wouldn’t come. She hated it, but she knew he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. Was this really how this leap was going to end? She felt she had less closure than she had to begin with. It was all so perplexingly unsatisfying. Al’s evasiveness and Sam’s conspicuous absence weighed heavily on her mind.

     Finally, “Be careful, Al.”

     He gave a tight grin, and she hugged him close. His body tensed at the unexpected affection. He wished she would stop making this harder.

     Reluctantly, she pulled away. Then, she disappeared.

     What they didn’t see was the hologram nearby, watching the conversation unfold. He opened the multi-hued door and disappeared again into the future.

     Calavicci’s forced grin faded away into fury. He still had a leap to complete. Now where was that piece of shit Jack McNeil?

\-------

       _Beckett’s smoke-blackened face was lit up orange from the flames of Project Quantum Leap. His determined eyes took in their work with a cold satisfaction. Mere hours before, he had been determined to make this his new home, start over again—only to once again be rejected by Al Calavicci and the life he wanted. He felt the loneliness grip him with the fury of an ex-lover, frantically hoped to make up his betrayal to his keepers—and found the person who had been by his side all along. He couldn’t understand why, but Calavicci was there. And together, they burned down everything Doctor Beckett had worked for._

_He hoped it stung Al. He hoped he was choking._

_“They’ll be retrieving me soon. They had to’ve figured out what I did by now.” Calavicci looked to his companion, fire reflected in his eyes. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was glad this misguided mission had gone haywire. He was glad that Beckett was his again. Or…could be. He was still free if he could evade the Project. He could leave it all behind. “Are you coming back?” Calavicci asked uncertainly._

     _Beckett furrowed his brows, finally seeing him again. “What do you mean, am I coming back? I’ve got nothing here.”_

_“You could just…keep running. Could probably make it if you’re clever enough.” Calavicci met his gaze. “And you are.” His tone was his permission. He wouldn’t hold him back._

_For a long time, Beckett considered it. He looked toward the setting sun and imagined just walking toward it and never stopping. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “No…I think I’ll see how this pans out.” He held up the disk they’d stolen containing information on Project Quantum Leap. “This might be interesting. I want to see how badly this hurts them.”_

_Calavicci laughed and lowered his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn’t want to admit how much he’d wanted that answer._

_“Besides. I think we should stick together.”_

_Calavicci’s eyes flew up with surprise. He knew Beckett meant it. His face was filled with earnest resolve, and more behind his words than he could express._

_“I’m sorry for leaving you behind. It won’t happen again.”_

_And Beckett held out his hand._

_Calavicci stared at the invitation apprehensively. Slowly, slid his hand out of his pocket._

_Their fingers entwined._

_\-------_

A suffocating fury rose up in Calavicci’s throat as he thought back to that moment, the first time he felt the same longing coming from Beckett, or thought he had. But would he have chosen him if he hadn’t been rejected by the Al there? If he hadn’t wanted to see it burn?

     _I want to see how badly this hurts them._

_I can’t love anything._

He didn’t want him. He wanted an Imposter. He didn’t want freedom. He wanted vengeance. He wanted to watch it all burn.

     Well Calavicci wasn’t going to burn with him.

\-------

     The sound of the trailer door slamming open started Jack McNeil off of his couch. Much to his surprise, Kevin came barging in with a crowbar.

     “Kevin? What the fuck are you—?!” He was abruptly cut off by a crowbar to the head. The director crumpled to the ground like a sack.

\-------

     Alia’s fingers tapped absentmindedly at the wheel as she played the scene over and over of her last encounter with Al. It didn’t sit right with her. It didn’t sit right at all.

     He was terrified of something, and it wasn’t just for her failing the leap. Something was haunting him, something to do with Sam. And she trusted him enough to listen when he said leave—but she also knew enough to know that sometimes you have to help someone when they won’t ask.

     She slammed on the breaks and turned around. This wasn’t how she was going to finish things.

\-------

     Calavicci looked down at the disgusting pussbag before him, his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “I know who you are,” he spat, “I know what you planned to do. Well you can’t do it to her. You can’t do it to anyone else.” He slammed the crowbar down again, this time breaking his arm with a satisfying crack. The man screamed and started to crawl away, but Calavicci had already overpowered him. “She’s better than you could ever hope to be. You didn’t deserve her!” Another blow, another break. Blood splattered in impressive patterns.

     “I—I don’t know wh-what you’re _talking_ about!” The man choked out. Calavicci hit him again.

     “There are no second chances! She trusted you! And you think she wouldn’t see past it?!”

     _I can’t love anything._

“I’m not doing it anymore! I’m not going to die for you!” One more blow, and he was out. Calavicci raised the bar, ready to deal the fatal blow, his entire body viciously rigid.

     At the last moment, he stopped himself.

     He thought of how many times he’d done this, been merciless to people far less deserving. But he couldn’t do it. Not now. …but he couldn’t say the urge to bludgeon his skull in wasn’t awful tempting.

     The crowbar clanged to the ground. He breathed tiredly.

     “You shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up. Beckett was lurking beside Jack in the shadows.

     He spent all this time like some sort of robot and now he was gonna be a smug asshole? Who did he think he was?

     “Why the fuck did you come back?” Calavicci asked coldly, “Just leave me to deal with this on my own. I’ll take whatever Lothos dishes out.” He knit his brows curiously. Oh no, he wasn’t going to be Beckett’s martyr. “Or maybe you’re here to see exactly that. Did the Project send someone else in to punish me? I bet you’d get off on that, especially since you can’t hurt the real thing.”

     Beckett narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     “Oh come on, we all know who you really want to hurt!” Calavicci yelled conspiratorially, “But he’s off being a white knight somewhere in time, so instead you have to punish me! That’s why you hate me, Sam!”

     Beckett’s mouth tightened with contained injury. “I don’t hate you.”

     A beat. Calavicci caught his breath. “Then what the fuck do we have?”

     The words cut deep. Beckett hobbled forward with a new righteous fire beneath him. Indicating the unconscious man on the floor, he asked, “Is this what you’re fighting for, Captain? Huh?” He swung his crutch through the man’s bloody head. “Do you think you’re a better man now?”

     Calavicci took in what he’d done and blinked, unable to admit the severity to himself. He rubbed under his nose and sniffed contemptuously. “He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

     “Oh you’re such a hero,” Beckett sneered, circling back around to him. Suffering was evident in each furious step. “Maybe you’re angry because you know I’m right. We shouldn’t exist.” He stopped, leaned forward, and drilled his eyes into him. “We don’t get to have a happy ending, Al.”

     Calavicci breathed deeply, considering his words. “Maybe not,” he said quietly. His eyes wandered to the wet crowbar. “Maybe no matter what we’re goin’ to hell. But if that’s the case, I’m gonna damn sure go out fighting. Fuck the Project. Fuck Lothos. Fuck Sam Beckett and Al Calavicci. I’m taking me back.” His eyes flicked up. “Are you with me?”

     “What is this?”

     In the doorway stood Alia, who stared at the scene in horror. The director face down on the floor, Al covered in blood, and the invisible Observer he was consulting with all-too familiar words. Horror turned to betrayal, and she staggered back.

     “Alia,” Calavicci gasped.

     “You’re…you’re with them.”

     “This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.” Calavicci started toward her, but she stumbled out of the trailer. Frantically wanting to plead his case, he hurried after her as she backed away. “Alia, please just let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

     “You son of a bitch!” Alia socked him hard across the face, causing him to see stars. Before he had a chance to recover, she was racing back to her car.

     “ALIA! Alia, wait!” But she was gone. The car had peeled out, spitting dirt at him before disappearing into the setting sun. Calavicci threw his throbbing head back. “Shit!”

     Beckett watched her go with his own agony. He had betrayed her again.

     A terrible squealing sound. He lifted the handlink curiously.

     “Don’t tell me,” Calavicci uttered morosely, “Lothos is very disappointed.”

     “The odds of Blair Bixby dying have increased by 32.5%...and they’re rising.”

     “What?” Calavicci stomped over with alarm. No, that wasn’t right. “How the fuck is that possible? I made Jack McNeil a _piñata_!”  

     “Evidently, he wasn’t the killer,” Beckett stated obviously.

     A sort of numbness overcame Calavicci as the realization came crashing down. Jack McNeil was a piece of shit, but not a murderer, and he’d beaten him to a pulp thinking he was some sort of vigilante. Like a hero. And for what?! Alia was still going to die, and who knew what was going to happen to him? And worst of all was the look on her face when she saw behind the mask to the real, grimy mess beneath. The image she’d take to her grave.

     He buried his face in his hands as the last vestiges of hope left him. “Nothing. It was all for nothing.” The strength left his legs and he fell to his knees. He couldn’t even do this one thing right. Beckett had him pegged all along.

     There was no happy ending.

     “If I were you, I’d get to Kindover Road in 20 minutes.” Calavicci’s head jerked up with surprise. Beckett looked down at him pointedly. “Make sure there are no more screw ups. Got me?”

     Shaking and breathless, Calavicci scrambled to his feet. An almost imperceptible smile of gratitude flashed across his face as he answered, “Got it.”

     Beckett didn’t betray anything. “Then hurry up.”

     Calavicci didn’t have time for any more thanks; he had a 20 minute window to not only save Alia, but prove that he was worth his…whatever number chance this was. No way was he gonna let that doorway close again. And that was all because of Beckett.

     Maybe they weren’t lost after all.

\-------

     The tears in Alia’s eyes nearly made it impossible to drive. The few lights on the lonely forest-lined road blurred as the droplets fell freely out of devastation. But she had to run, had to keep going. She’d get Blair home and leap out and pray she never encountered another leaper again.

     It was her worst nightmare. Sometimes she felt she was going leap to leap trying to escape her past, and now they’d found her and used her weakness for Sam Beckett against her. She’d gone soft since leaving the Project.

     How could she have been so gullible? Thinking back, not everything made sense. His story had been weak, and it was clear something was off about him, but she’d believed him because she wanted it to be true. And he’d used her, preyed on her vulnerability, and now she was as good as dead. God, she’d been such a fool!

     It was then that she heard a loud pop and the car began to veer right. Gasping, she pulled to a stop.

     A damn flat tire. No! Her eyes widening with panic, she rushed out of the car. Sure enough, the tire was blown out. Swearing under her breath, she rushed to the back and popped the trunk. No spare.

     “Great!” She slumped onto the hood.

     A pair of headlights blinded her and she gasped, jumping behind the car. Realizing she was weaponless, she began to search for something she could use.

     The other vehicle stopped and a concerned Ted McNeil popped his head out. “Hey Blair, it’s just me!”

     Alia sighed and fell against the car with relief. “Oh, Ted. I didn’t realize.”

     The door opened and he stepped out, surveying the flat tire. Lifting up a clunky brick of a cell phone, he asked, “Need a hand?”

\-------

     10 minutes. Calavicci frequently found himself checking his watch as he floored it toward Alia. There had to be enough time. There was no other option. Shit, this clunker better move faster! And it barely had any gas to boot. Kevin was a real idiot.

\-------

     “Lucky I just happened to be here, huh?”

     Trying not to show how nervous she was, Alia smiled and nodded as she kept an eye out for any unwelcome guests. “Yeah…thanks. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

     She hoped the car service was here soon. It was too open out here, and Ted wasn’t going to be much help against evil leapers. One good push and he’d be down.

     “Well ya know…” A hand reached out and stroked her cheek. She abruptly turned to see the tiny man eyeing her lasciviously. “I have some ideas how you can make it up to me.”

     Frowning, Alia took a gentle step back. This was the last thing she needed. “Um…listen, Ted. I appreciate you helping me, but this is just the wrong time. You know?”

     Rather than back off, he reached out and grabbed her tightly, pulling her close. “Aw c’mon…be a good girl.”

     Alia heatedly pushed him back. “I said no.”

     Abruptly, his expression shifted. He snatched her arm again and shook her with surprising strength. “Don’t be a bitch.”

     “Let go of me!”

     As Alia struggled to pull away, her feet got tangled on a log behind her. Before she could regain her balance, she found herself falling backwards and hitting something hard. Her body went limp.

     Ted stared down at the unconscious woman, a man torn between his desires and what little conscience there was. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he just wanted what he was owed. Didn’t he deserve it? And who was she to deny him anyway? Women just teased and stole and used. Well he wasn’t going to be a tool anymore.

     Then, he threw that last part of his conscience away and began to unzip his pants. He was going to get what he wanted.

     Then a log slammed into his head and he, too, was knocked out.

     “Duck.” Tossing the log aside, Calavicci jumped over the little weasel and hurried over to his former friend with worry. She was laid against a rock and bleeding from the head. Damn it. Lifting her into his arms, he gently shook her. “Alia? Alia, can you hear me?” If that shit stain had already killed her, he was gonna wrap his hands around his neck until he was cold.

     Slowly, she began to come around. As her bleary eyes began to adjust, she furrowed her brows. “Hm…?”

     “You okay? Talk to me.”

     A familiar face came into view and she inhaled sharply, rolling out of his arms. She was still dazed, but quick enough to crab walk out of his reach. “Stay away!”

     Calavicci lifted his hands to try and appear nonthreatening, but there was still the issue of the red stains all over him. “Alia, listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

     She shook her battered head hysterically, pushing away horrible memories. “I won’t go back!”

     “I don’t want you back.”

     Alia looked frantically around her, grabbing a large stick that looked sturdy enough to do some damage. “You—You want to kill me then. You just told me that bullshit to get me out of the way until you killed Jack and then came after me!”

     “No, listen!” Calavicci yelled sternly, straightening his back. He waved his hand toward Ted. “He was the one who was gonna kill you, alright? And I guess his piss bucket of a dad was gonna help cover it up, and yeah, I turned him into a pizza face, but he ain’t dead. Even if he should be.”

     Alia considered all of this, squinted at him distrustingly. She gripped the stick tighter.

     Calavicci sighed and slumped down. “Why would I stop this guy if I was just gonna kill you anyway?”

     Slowly, Alia sat up and managed to get herself into a crouching position, back raised like a wild cat. “The better question is, why the hell would someone like you want to save me?”

     “Because I’m not who you think I am.”

     “That’s the first truthful thing you’ve said to me.”

     Calavicci stood up. So did she. “James.”

     A beat. “What?”

     “That’s your father’s name. James what, you never said.”

     This wasn’t going to work on her. “The Project would know that.”

     “He was in the Air Force.” Calavicci began to step closer, but Alia kept her distance. “The day before he left for Vietnam, he told you to watch over Lenny for him—that was your stuffed pig.” Alia’s lips parted just slightly. She shook her head. “He called you Sprout, because you loved the garden. He’d take you out there sometimes and you helped him pick tomatoes after he lost his arm. That was the last place you saw him before you were taken.”

     Alia stopped, frightened.

     “I used to know you.” Calavicci’s mouth tightened and he looked away to hide his sadness. He wanted so badly what he had with her before, but he couldn’t get attached. Any minute now he’d be retrieved and it would be over. He was just happy, even momentarily, that he’d made this right. “And you don’t know me anymore, but I…I’m damn proud of you. And I want you to see that garden again.”

     Alia cocked her head, really studied the lines on his face, tried to see the ghost he once was. She dropped the stick from her hands, tentatively came closer. “Who are you? Really?”

     “I told you the truth. My name is Al.”

     Alia furrowed her brows. “But not Sam’s Al.”

     Calavicci couldn’t help but let out a small snort. “Something like that.”

     The sound of sirens broke them out of their moment. As the flashing lights began to light up the darkened road, they realized that both of their leaps were coming to an end. Too soon.

     A blue spark began to crackle from Alia’s fingertips and travel up her arms. Time was calling her away. She met Calavicci’s eyes again and saw herself. Whoever he really was, he was special. With determination, she held out her hand to the captive soul. “Leap with me.”

     The mere offer touched Calavicci more deeply than he realized. It meant freedom, but more importantly, it meant that she saw something in him that he wasn’t sure could be reclaimed.

     He saw something in Beckett that couldn’t be abandoned.

     With deep regret, he shook his head. “I’ve got somebody waiting for me.”

     Alia lowered her hand, smiled sadly. The light began to overtake her. “Thank you, Al.”

     “Goodbye, Alia.”

     As the brilliant silhouette began to blind him, a red light overcame his vision and violently pulled him away.

\-------

     It hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected, or maybe it just didn’t feel like it had before. The Project’s punishment had come in a blur, a moment that passed very quickly. They were probably thinking something else up, but at the moment, as he nursed the burns on his body, he was filled with unbreakable pride.

     He had found himself again. No…he’d found a new Al Calavicci. And a few other lost things.

     His door slid open. Grunting in pain, he got up from his bed and so he could face the man before him on his feet.

     Beckett was barely standing, blood dripping from his ears and nose. As he kept his shaking body in balance, his blackened eyes met Calavicci’s with a mutual understanding. “She make it?”

     Calavicci nodded. Thank you.

     Beckett inclined his head in return and silently began to stagger away.

     The other man lowered his head.

     A heavy clunk. Beckett nearly slipped, leaning heavily against the door. “Al?” Calavicci looked up. Beckett was different now. Yearning, passionate. He wanted him close. “Come here.”

     The meaning of the invitation slowly rolled over Calavicci, who straightened up with shock. Beckett—his Sam—wanted him. Wanted him now. His injuries didn’t matter anymore, he didn’t feel anything, all he felt was the need to close the distance between them immediately. Within seconds, they were grabbing each other’s arms.

     Their lips met. He tasted copper as their bodies pressed against the wall.

     They’d found each other. At last.


	4. Chapter 4

     This mission had been so simple and so complicated. Break up two high school kids. Y’know, shit work. But work they could deal with. However, as time went by and the retrieval window was getting smaller, it was becoming increasingly obvious that this easy leap wasn’t so simple after all.

     Calavicci could tell something was wrong. Every time he got in the middle, something else happened that brought those two together. And good for them, but that was really not the ideal outcome for him. He needed this win more than they needed this relationship. He could use a few more privileges at the Project, so would it kill them to take the bullet for him? Who the hell stays with their high school sweetheart anyway?

     This was pitiful, but he had one last chance to put this history wrong. With thunder rattling the windows around him, he raced up the spiraled steps of the old radio station to destroy the dish on the roof. No schmaltzy love song, no reignited love, one successful leap.

     He raised the bat.

     “Stop!”

     Damn! He turned over his shoulder to find Simon’s friend Billy standing on the roof with him. Suddenly, it dawned on him that a lot of his problems seemed to stem from this one little punk. Obviously he’d caught onto the fact he was breaking their little friends up, and now he was being a real pain in the ass.

     “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

     Unseen by the teenager and bone dry in the rain, Beckett swore under his breath. “Not him again. Doesn’t he ever give up?” Then to Calavicci, “Just ignore him and let’s get this over with.”

     Right. They were almost out. “Nothing personal, kid.”

     Just as he was about to swing, Billy unexpectedly lunged at him. Surprised at the power of the blow, the two slid to the wet ground and began to grapple for the bat. Jeez, who was this kid?!

     “Damn it, Al! Stop messing around!”

     A zap of electricity. Two bodies changing shape. Calavicci now stared at Billy’s true face, that of Doctor Sam Beckett. They both went rigid with shock.

     “Sam!” It was the other Al. He had just joined them on the roof, watching the whole scene play out in horror.

     “You!” they said together.

     Shoving him away, Calavicci scrambled to his feet as the other leaper got into a fighting stance.

     And nearby, a hologram was watching it all numbly. He gripped the handlink with such force his palm began to bleed. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

     Calavicci was in a Mexican standoff. Shit. What to do now. He didn’t want to fight Doctor Beckett…but maybe he did want to kill him just a little. No matter what he’d promised himself, he still couldn’t shake the image of that bastard running away as his Sam plummeted off of a building. He couldn’t deny that he hated the man before him.

     But he couldn’t give in to what he really wanted. This time, he had to run.

     He tossed the bat aside.

     “Get me outta here,” he ordered Beckett.

     For a moment, nothing. The Sam across from him and the Al nearby stared in bewilderment, confused by his retreat and unsure of what to do. Finally, Calavicci glanced to Beckett, who was still lost in his own world.

     He cleared his throat. Beckett finally looked his way.

     Working on autopilot, he communicated the retrieval code to Lothos. Within moments, the quantum energy began to surround Calavicci. The last thing he saw through the red was the other Sam lowering his fists and blue surrounding him.

     A deafening roar of thunder. A bolt of lightning came crashing down, surrounding Calavicci and the Doctor Beckett.

     “SAM!” the other Al screamed.

\-------

     The lightning blinded Beckett’s vision and suddenly he found himself being torn away from the Imaging Chamber, his body ripped through time. The immediate disorientation sent his stomach flip-flopping as he traveled through a weightless void, and then abruptly found the ground coalescing beneath him. Without his crutch or his brace, the pain in his leg blindsided him and he immediately fell on his ass.

     It was day now. He squinted in the bright sunlight, unused to it now, as confusion overwhelmed him. Where was he? In a street? Where? Why?

     “Oh thank god,” he heard someone breathe, “I was worried for a second there! You okay, Sam?”

     Out of the blinding light came a silhouette, reaching out an ominous hand. Beckett scrambled back into the street, breathing heavily and eyes darting everywhere in panic. “What the hell happened?!”

     The figure jumped back in surprise and lifted his palms. As he spoke, Beckett’s eyes adjusted to the light and Al Calavicci came into view, “It’s okay, Sam. We leaped. I think you just got a bit of a shock.”    

     The realization slowly dawned on him and a wave of fear and anger followed. His pupils slit as he grabbed the back of the truck next to him, dragging himself to his feet. “You’re the other one.” This was not his Al. It was the Admiral. The Liar. “And I’m…” He gazed around the small town that surrounded them and knit his eyebrows together. “…I’m out.”

     This was their leap.

     He was free.

     A look of recognition and disbelief fell on the other man’s face. “You died.”

     “…almost.” He was still in a daze. This was unreal.

     The other Al couldn’t comprehend this. He was staring at a dead man. He wished. Denial and then anger and then fright. He took a staggered step toward him, demanding his attention.

     “Wait a minute. If you’re here…where the hell is Sam?”

\-------

     Hot white faded into cold black, and Sam found himself standing in complete darkness. The room was silent. Felt empty. The only sound was his breathing.

     Something was in his hand. He lifted it up, the only bit of light in the room. A glowing triangle with blinking lights. He furrowed his brows as he tried to figure out what it was.

     The sound of humming machinery. A runway of red light suddenly appeared, leading the way to a single red door with a familiar shape. The door slid up, and a velvety voice filled the room with a terrifying, dulcet tone.

     “We’re waiting, Samuel.”


End file.
